Monday, September 20, 2004

In disturbing news, I was reading in bed, and I noticed an eye peering through the large gaping hole in my door where normally a doornob would be. I don't have a doornob, just a gaping hole, and a padlock since it was too difficult to install when I first moved in. But, I noticed someone with their head bent down to the hole peering in. I thought it was Jillian and I was a bit annoyed that she would not just knock, rather than peer in. I was glad I was not masturbating, got up, opened the door, and saw a large, unfamiliar, black man on at my door. He asked me where the super was.

**

I told him on the first floor and was puzzled why he was on my floor but too shocked and taken by surprise to question him. He went down to the first floor. I started to write this here in the living room with the door open in case he came back upstairs so I would hear him. At the point where those two stars interrupt this narrative, I walked to the door to just peer down the stairs and see if he was still around and found him out in my hallway again. He had obviously tried to make as little noise as possible coming back up, and he told me that no one was down there on the first floor and did I know a way he could get in contact with them. I said no, and asked me what he wanted, who he was. He told me his name was Anthony and that he was the handy man, that they had hired him to do some work, like fix the hole in my door. And I knew he was lying right then. And if you knew my landlords, you would too. They do not fix anything, especially stuff they aren't asked to fix.

I asked him how he got in. Our front door is open because the door handle fell off. It falls off just about every week. But the second set of doors is normally locked. He said they weren't locked. I asked him if he could lock them on his way out. The man on the second floor then asked him not to lock it because he is waiting for the Terminex guy to call. After Anthony left, I went downstairs and told second floor guy about what just happened and he agreed that it was weird, that Iris definitly would not hire a handyman, that they don't fix up anything. Not to be totally offensive, but it was pretty obvious that this man wouldn't be doing work around the house because he was black. They don't hire people, they have their Spanish speaking realtives and friends come over and fix things up when they reach absolute levels where something must be done. So, I am little worried that this man knows how unsecure our house and my room is.

But when I had first started to write this, I was breifly going to tell the disturing news and then the exciting news. Tomorrow morning, I am supposed to stop by the copy shop (Jenex Graphics) to talk to the owner, Chris, and to hopefully be hired. Whoo! Whoo! Whoo! U-S-A! U-S-A!